Of Darkness and Light
by The Phantom Dragon
Summary: What happens when you mix Wilders and Winchesters. Dean and Sam discover not all demons are evil when they meet a family under a thousand-year-old curse. Little do both families know the affect this will have on their futures.
1. PROLOGUE

_I was enjoying a nice long case of writers block when I rediscovered Supernatural after forgetting about it for two whole years (grrrrr) and it immediately got my gray matter moving. At the same time I discovered Christina Dode's Darkness Chosen series. _

_Okay enough said, hope you enjoy. _

**Prologue**

"Look. Isn't she beautiful?"

"She's gorgeous. An angel just like her mother." Jasha smiled at his wife and leaned over to kiss her just as a knock sounded on the door.

Jasha groaned and straitened. "If that's the doctor I swear I am gonna fucking kill 'im." He drawled with a crooked grin then yelled, "Come in."

"Then I guess I am lucky that I decided to become a grape grower instead of a doctor." a voice boomed as the door opened to reveal his parents, brother, and kid sister.

Jasha looked up sheepishly but his father ignored him and instead made a beeline for the bed containing his daughter-in-law and newest family addition.

"Ann!" Konstantin roared, "My beautiful daughter. You have brought one miracle after another into our lives," he gestured toward the other members of the family. "And now my son informs me that you have brought the best miracle of all too pass." He held out his arms and asked, "May I please see her."

Ann smiled and pulled back the blankets to reveal the bundle she cradled.

Konstantin approached the bed almost reverently and gazed down on the infant. "May I hold her?" Ann smiled and held out the sleeping bundle to him.

Konstantin accepted the child with slight hesitancy, as if he were afraid she would break in his hands. But the second he had a firm hold on her the baby opened her eyes to stare at him with curiosity before beating her tiny fists on his powerfully arms, gurgling in protest of being removed from her mother and handed to this stranger.

Konstantin chuckled proudly. "She has the spirit of her father and the beauty of her mother."

Jasha smiled. The last time Konstantin had been any where's near this proud had been seven years ago when Firebird was born. Now he knew how his old man had felt and he was liking this part a whole lot.

"May I see her?" his mother, Zorana, asked shyly.

Odd.

She usually bossed everyone in the family. For her to sound so uncertain about such a small thing as asking to see her granddaughter was slightly unsettling for Jasha.

Meekly, Konstantin handed the infant, who had now gotten over her display of objection, over to his wife for introductions.

Zorana smiled as she took the child in her arms. "My daughter, heaven has smiled on us this day." She cooed soothingly as she watched her granddaughter yawn and settle down. "The darkness has once more failed to keep an angel from coming to this earth to scorn them."

"She looks just like you did when you were born," she commented to her eldest son who was grinning broadly, every inch of him emanating the joy and pride he felt.

Just then the baby opened her eyes and Zorana gasped.

"Ma? What is it?" Rurik asked, coming to stand beside her. His eyes also widened at what he saw.

The baby's eyes were a storm of blue sky and grey cloud and seemed to bore right into him. An unusual effect for one so young and Rurik had seen many unusual things in his twenty-two years. But the truly unsettling thing was her pupils. Crimson red like dark blood rubies, they seemed to almost glow with an inner fire. From a distance they were black as coals in appearance; but even then they were unsettling. It was as if a light of great strength shone behind those dark windows, but whose power could not be fully shut out.

"Jasha, did you see this?" he inquired, slightly stunned.

"Yes I did smart ass." Jasha snapped. "She's my daughter, in case you forgot!"

"I have never seen eyes like this before." Zorana mused, "The only thing that would come close would be when you boys allow your inner demons to show. And even then it is often only for a short time. With her, it is like the power is there, lurking and waiting to spring forth at any time."

"Huh," Jasha snorted in derision. "You think that is weird. Take a look at this!" He gently lifted his daughter and held her so her head rested on his shoulder. Securely holding her with one arm, he carefully lifted the back of her shirt to show the small of her back.

Zorana let out a second gasp, Rurik swore, Konstantin muttered something unintelligible in Russian, and Firebird stared curiously.

"Holy mother of god," Rurik repeated his earlier curse. "Is that what I think it is?"

"I guess so." Jasha shrugged and tucked the shirt back in place. "I don't know what else it could be. Except it's different, so we don't know what it means yet."

"Holy crap, HOLY CRAP!" Rurik repeated, shaking his head. "That would explain why the lady at the counter looked at us weird when we asked for your room number. Something like that is gonna be hard to keep quite in a hospital. Especially on the baby of the infamous Jasha Wilder."

"Rurik! Shush!" Konstantin growled. "We already have a problem without you yelling it for the entire maternity ward to hear."

"Has anyone else besides the staff who were present for the birth seen it?" he asked, turning his piercing gaze on Jasha.

"The nurses who take care of the babies, I think." Jasha knew that tone his father was using; it was the one he had used the first time Jasha transformed and then boasted to his brothers about it. It meant something was up and Konstantin was trying to think of what course of action to take.

"Hmmm." Konstantin grunted and began pacing the floor. "How soon till you are allowed to leave?"

"The doc said a few days and it's almost been a week. So, soon I guess." Jasha could smell his father's agitation burning in his nostrils.

Just then there was a knock on the door; which, as soon as Konstantin growled out permission to enter, opened to admit the nurse whose already scared expression turned to one of near panic. Clearly the rumors had already spread and most likely been blown up a bit, because the poor girl looked like she was ready to faint when she saw the Wilder males watching her and the open doorway like they expected danger to come waltzing through it at any second.

"I…I just need to do some routine checks…"

The way she was squeaking woke something inside Jasha and caused the demon to raise its head in predatory interest. Immediately he squashed it and smiled warmly at her. "Sure. Come on in."

Nothing more was said as the nurse fumbled through the basic blood pressure and temperature readings. Routine questioning done she scurried from the room like it could bite her.

"Maybe we really should be leaving," Jasha grinned, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

"Good!" Zorana straightened brusquely, back to her normal 'family matron' mode. "Ann and the little one will come stay with us on the farm until she is fully recovered.

"That way she has someone to care for and protect her all day which you will not be capable of with your work."

Jasha immediately raised his hackles. 'She is _my_ mate and I can care for her as well as any. _Thank you_!"

"Oh?" Zorana stiffened and tilted back her head to glare down at her eldest. A tough feat considering he had over a dozen inches on her but the she pulled it off he might as well have still been a little boy with his hand in the cookie jar. "And I suppose you know what a baby and new mother need do you?"

'Erm, yeah, I help you take care of Adrik and Firebird…" Jasha pulled up as he realized the taboo subject he had stumbled on.

Zorana did not seem to notice and plowed on. "You were in school or doing chores most of the time when Adrik was a baby and then you had your company when Firebird was born. Now your company is busier than ever and you are needed there."

"Don't worry," Rurik smirked. "Your 'mate' and pup will be cozy as can be all tucked up in Mamma bear's den."

"That 'bear' will not be cooking for you if you continue disrespecting your siblings like that." Zorana glared.

Rurik 'eeped' and looked sufficiently reprimanded. "Sorry Mamma, just having little fun."

"It's alright, really." Ann tried to protest. "I helped out with the younger kids in the orphanage so I do know how to take care of a baby."

"It's not a matter of care." Ann was surprised at the serious tone Jasha adopted. "She is the second daughter born under the curse. The Varinskis are already close enough. If they find out about her they will stop at nothing to kill her. She is a damnation upon them."

"Upon everything they stand for and have built." Konstantine nodded in solemn agreement. "Firebird already should not have been possible, but a second daughter?"

Grim silence settled on the room as all contemplated the implications of this. Even Firebird who was not yet old enough to fully understand the importance of the conversation looked pensive.

"I had hope we would find a way to break the pact before she was born," Jasha said sadly as he gently rocked the infant that had started to grow restless with the serious atmosphere.

"Is that even possible?' Rurik frowned.

"Mamma and Papa already fulfilled the first part of that prophesy, there has to be a way to finish it." Jasha was starting to sound desperate as he continued soothing his increasingly restless daughter. "She smells like a wolf."

"No! No way! You don't think…" Rurik trailed off as he saw the sadness in his brother's eyes. "Papa said Firebird didn't smell like a predator."

"That is what I want to find out about. _Before_ she gets anywhere near being able to change."

Ann had no words to sooth her husband's troubled thoughts. Instead she held out her arms to take over the job of calming her new daughter.

_What are you little one?_ She asked silently, trying desperately to block the gnawing in her heart. Innocent of the mystery surrounding her birth the baby happily gurgled to be back in her mother's arms.

_What paths does your future hold that you will lead us down in these dark hours?_

* * *

**Review?**


	2. Chapter I: Little Brother's Problems

**Chapter one: Little Brother's Problems**

Dean shook himself and forced his lungs to drag in the oxygen that they needed for him to function. Fortunately his brother's screaming a few feet away snapped him to his senses instantly. Quickly he scanned the ground for the lighter he had dropped when the spirit had thrown him against the tree.

"Dean. Hurry," Sam rasped as the ghost continued its iron strangle hold on him, the cold seeping from it chilling him to the bone and then some.

"I'm working on it," Dean cranked. Thankfully the moon was full and Dean caught sight of the lighter gleaming dully in the grass. Snatching it up, he flicked it open and dropped it into the grave where the previously salted and kerosene doused corpse lay.

The effect was instantaneous as the ghost abandoned its attempts at strangling Sam and slowly dissolved into the night darkness.

Dean watched it disappear then turned back to his brother who was shivering violently on the ground.

"Sam. Sam." He called urgently when his touch garnered no response.

"M' ok." Sam rasped weakly through chattering teeth.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief; at least his brother was alive, and beyond the shivering, did not appear to be hurt.

Hauling the kid to his feet, Dean wrapped his arm around Sam's waist and threw one of his arms over his shoulder so he could better support him.

"Well," he commented looking around. "That, was one nasty son-of-a-bitch."

"Yeah," Sam managed a chuckle, even though it felt like his insides were frozen. "Kind of makes you glad we moved around so much growing up."

"Made sure we were never in one place long enough to make friends we could get killed by daring to go skinny dipping in a freezing lake in the dead of winter." He hastily added when Dean gave him a look that said 'you sure you didn't hit your head harder than I thought?'

Shaking his head in bewilderment, Dean led Sam over to the edge of the grave that was still burning. Hopefully the heat would be sufficient to warm the kid up enough till they got back to their motel room. Even in May it got relatively chilly at night here in Arizona and Sammy had a history of being susceptible to illnesses, especially cold related flu's, which was the last thing they needed right now.

Easing Sam down to sit on the edge of the pit, Dean did a quick take of the area; out here there wasn't too much to cover the glow of the fire. And a fire in the cemetery was sure to raise suspicions after three deaths by the spirit of a tenth grader who had died of pneumonia after carrying out a challenge to go swimming in subzero water right after a snow storm. Apparently the kid blamed his friends for his death and had wanted revenge, taking no pains to be to subtle about it.

Grumbling his whole "demons I get, but humans are just plain sick sometimes' spiel, Dean settled down next to his brother. The night had been cold enough without the added frost from the spirit and he would be no good to his brother if he got hypothermia.

After about twenty minutes of waiting for the bones to completely disintegrate, while checking on his brother ever three minutes, Dean deemed the bones to be ash and their job done.

Ten minutes later, after they had filled in the grave, which had been more like Dean shoveling while ignoring Sam's protests that he was well enough to help, they were back in the car heading for the motel they were currently based in.

"Hands on the heater Sam," Dean commanded as he turned the fan to the highest it would go, "I'm not having you get sick on me now." The last time Sam was sick, they had been stuck in a crappy hotel in a town in the middle of nowhere, with no chicks to hit on and real shitty TV reception. And the town they were in now had to be the ultimatum of the phrase 'the middle of nowhere'; not the most ideal place for a guy like him to be stuck for a week.

"Ha," Sam chuckled, though it sounded more like an attempt to stifle a cough, "Yeah well your not to hot yourself."

Dean just shot Sam his 'eat shit' grin and inspected his face in the rear-view mirror. "Yeah, well I'm not the one with a bruise the size of Texas coming out the back of my head." he snorted.

_No arguing there, _Sam groused. His head felt like an overripe melon that might split at any time, courtesy of the ghost throwing him against a particularly large headstone, a light gash ran across his left bicep, he was still freezing, and all Dean had to show for the damn hunt besides being covered in dirt up to his knees was a couple of light bruises and a split lip.

Sam rolled his eyes, if there was one thing he hated more than demons, it was his brother being right about his injures while gloating that he would be the one taking care of things till Sam got better. Even though he knew Dean would be worried about him for every second of his ordeal, it still annoyed him to no end.

"What? No comment Samantha?" Sam rolled his eyes.

"You do know I saved your ass out there."

"Really! When?" Dean gave Sam his best grin. "Cause last I checked you were the one being freeze-prepped for shipment too the afterlife."

"Yeah, well I wasn't the one who did the back flip without checking behind me." Sam shot back.

Dean shook his head. "Bitch."

"Jeeerk." Sam drawled. God, in the three years he had spent in college he had never been this free to simply be himself without having to hide behind a veil of secrecy. Dean could be annoying, but Sam knew he meant well. He had almost forgotten how good it felt to know his brother would always be there to watch his back no matter what happened; even when he was a pain in the ass sometimes. Heck, he had even missed their verbal sparring matches just for the fun of it.

Dean laughed as they pulled into the parking lot of the motel. _Just like old times,_ he thought happily.

An hour latter, as they sprawled on their beds flicking through the channels, Sam glanced over at his brother and noticed that the smile he had had on since they had gotten back was still there. The only time it had not been present was when Dean cleaned the cut on his arm, the corners of his mouth curved down in worry; but his grin had quickly returned after he had declared the wound was not deep enough that Sam would need stitches. Now he sat propped against the head board, completely relaxed while nursing his third beer, with that persistent grin on his face and it was really starting to gnaw on Sam's nerves.

Finally he could hold it no longer.

"Dude, what in the name of hunting are you so peachy about?" Dean looked up in surprise at this sudden outburst from his sibling and he mentally scratched his head. Sam had been quite since they'd gotten back to the room, but Dean pinned it up to exhaustion. Now it looked like something else was in the mix and it was bugging Sam.

"What cha' mean dude?"

Sam exhaled and shook his head in disbelief. "Dude," he paused to give Dean a slightly incredulous look. "We just fucking wasted a kid, and you're sitting here looking like nothing happened."

Dean scratched behind his ear, not sure how he was gonna answer that one. Sammy had been in a bit of a mood throughout the day, but he hadn't been counting on this.

He glanced up and was met with Sam's hurt puppy eyes. Awww hell, he hated it when Sam used that look. Growing up, it was the one he used whenever he was scared or hurting and wanted Dean's reassurance that everything was okay. It hurt him to know what it most likely meant.

Six months had already passed since Jess died, but Sam was still having nightmares and bouts of guilt that seemed to pop up at the most inconvenient times. Come to think of it, he'd been even more reclusive since their encounter with Bloody Mary, and after their little showdown with the shape shifter in St. Louis a few weeks earlier he seemed to be slowly pulling himself into a shell again.

The week after Jess's death had been hell for not only Sam but Dean as well. After Sam's statement that he intended to hunt the fucking bastard that slaughtered their mother and now the woman he loved, Dean had hoped that Sam was pulling himself together so they could go after the demon.

But instead Sam sat in the ruins of the apartment he had shared with Jess, or wandered the neighborhood and the college campus, lost in the his memories and an all consuming guilt that seemed to weigh on him like some sickening burden that refused to diminish no matter what Dean tried to ease his brother's sorrow.

Dean had never felt so helpless in his life as he had then. When they finally got back on the road he had hoped that the amount of energy needed to focus on the hunt would be sufficient to distract Sam enough that he would be able to begin to heal.

Instead, every reference to the hunt seemed to just cause Sam to close up a little more each time. And it hurt Dean to know there was nothing he could do to ease that pain.

It was no until they encountered the wendigo and help stop another family from being torn apart that Sam had started to open up and confide in him again.

Dean hated the thought of what would happen if Sam came apart again and completely shut himself of from the world and his brother, which seemed to be what was happening here. Whatever was upsetting his little brother was in serious need of being addressed before it became a major issue that would be out of Dean's control.

Now he watched as his baby brother sat hunched over the side of his bed, hands bunched into fists like he was trying to restrain himself. His head was cast down but Dean could see the beginnings of tears starting to glisten in those hazel-green eyes that usually held a gleam of silent laughter, it hurt him to think of what could be causing his brother this much pain.

Running his hands through his hair, he pondered the best approach to take that would hopefully get Sam to talk without upsetting him further. When they were younger it had been easy to get him to share what was bothering him. Sam had always been the emotional one and he trusted Dean completely that whatever he said wouldn't go beyond the four walls of the room.

Now he barely talked about anything beyond hunting, and _that_ had to change.

"Yeah, so what's your point?" Okay maybe not the best approach, but Dean had always been a strait shooter and was not particularly talented at beating around the bush.

Sam shook his head, the incredulous look intensified. He could not believe how calloused Dean could be. They had wasted the spirit of a sixteen year-old not an hour ago, but as far as Dean was concerned, they might as well have not even heard of the hunt.

"Forget it Dean," Sam sighed and rolled his eyes.

_Forget it Dean. What the hell_…

Sam was shutting him out again and Dean didn't even wanna think about where that could go. He had hoped that just maybe seeing their mother when they confronted the poltergeist in their old home would help ease some of the tension that had been building up between them. But then their dad had called with instructions for the hunt at the Roosevelt Asylum and Dean's hopes collapsed like a punctured balloon.

From there things had gone down hill so fast that it was only a week later that they stood on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, arguing about Dean's blind faith in their father. He had almost felt like punching Sam when he declared his decision to go to California alone.

Hadn't he known that Dean was just as anxious to find their father? He just trusted the man enough to believe he had a good reason for not wanting to see them was all. Of course Sam came back, just in the nick of time to, although Dean would never admit too it, but things had been strained between them since.

And now Sam was having visions. The idea that Sam was having psychic dreams had been freaky enough; but now he was having visions that caused excruciating headaches when they came. Dean had to admit he was really starting to wonder what was going on with his brother, but only Sam could answer that question.

"Ok Sam let's have it."

Sam raised his head in surprise. "Wha… what do you mean?" he stammered.

Dean rolled his eyes and mentally beat his head against the wall. Why oh why did Sam have to try to wriggle around his every attempt at working things out between them. Did he have any idea what it was doing to Dean, having to try figure out if he had been the one to upset his younger brother.

"Come on man. I know something is bothering you and we are not going anywhere until we sort it out!" Dean stated with a note of finality.

"Dean," Sam whined, "it's nothing.

Dean sucked in a breath to calm his urge to yell at Sam for being such a thick headed little titch. If the kid thought he was just going to sit back and ignore the problem at hand, he was dead wrong.

"DON'T … give me that Sam. Something's wrong and I want to know what it is!"

Dean almost bit his tongue when he saw Sam wince at the harshness in his voice. He hadn't meant for it to come out like that but he was tired of Sam avoiding him every time he tried to find out what was wrong.

Placing his hand under Sam's chin, he gently lifted his head until their eyes met. Dean swallowed hard when he saw tears swimming in Sam's eyes; he couldn't stop the lump that was rising in his throat at the knowledge that he had only succeeded in stirring up the storm that was brewing in those too-emotional orbs that always failed to hid the truth behind them.

"Sammy," he tried again in a softer tone, "what's wrong."

Sam's breathing hitched when he heard Dean used his childhood nickname and he gazed searchingly into Dean's eyes, looking for understanding. Finally he could hold it in no longer.

"I know this sounds stupid," he began tentatively. "But ever since we met Max, I can't help thinking… that could have been me."

Dean stared at Sam in amazement, whatever he had expected, it had not been this. But now that he thought about it, he should have seen it coming. It was right after they watched Max attempt to kill his stepmother and then shoot himself that things took a nosedive between them.

He recalled Sam contemplating the possibility that if what happened to Max had happened to him, would he have turned out the same way. Dean was quick to assure him that he would never have let his brother turn into such a psycho. He thought he made it clear that even if their dad had been as much a jerk as Max's, Dean would have protected Sam even if it cost him his life; something he was pretty sure he amply proved numerous times.

Sam seemed to sense he had said something wrong, because he instantly lowered his eyes to avoid having to look at Dean since his brother's hand prevented him from moving his head away.

Dean sighed, the kid was still pretty shook up from what had happened and he didn't know what to do to help him.

Finally he settled for the one thing that had always worked when they were younger and Sam got scared or hurt. He pulled Sam into a hug.

Sam tensed for a moment as he felt himself being drawn into his brother's arms, but then relaxed and buried his face in Dean's shoulder. It didn't matter that he was twenty-two and should have long outgrown acting like an insecure child; just the feeling of Dean's arms wrapped around him calmed the raging storm that was swirling inside him, reassuring him that his brother was there and that everything was going to be alright.

No matter what, Dean would always be there for him.

Sinking to his knees by the bed, he wrapped his arms around his brother and let the tears that had been threatening to spill for so long now run freely down his cheeks.

Dean tightened his hold on Sam as sobs began to wrack his younger bother's lithe frame and he felt tears beginning to soak into the front of his shirt. Awww, to hell with no chick flick moments, his brother needed this and he sure as hell was not gonna be the one to spoil the moment. Besides, it felt kinda good, knowing that Sam trusted him again, enough to tell Dean how he felt.

Knowing that it couldn't be very comfortable for his brother to be kneeling on the hard floor, he quickly slid down to sit on the floor between the beds, never relinquishing his hold on Sam.

They sat that way for a few minutes, until Sam's sobs quieted down to small hiccups and he sat up to face his brother.

"Sorry man. You know, for getting all emotional on you." Sam hiccupped again and swiped at the tears on his cheeks.

"Don't be." Dean paused when Sam looked up at him surprise. "Don't be sorry for how you feel. I should have seen that you were still hurting. Hell, that episode with Max scared the crap out of me too."

Sam sniffled and shyly glanced up at Dean. "Really?"

"Seriously man. I just wish you could have told me sooner that that's what's been bothering you." Dean wrapped his hand around the back of Sam's neck and gently rubbed it. He felt the beginning of lump in his throat at the sight of Sam's, now wet, puppy eyes, so full of gratitude at being understood instead of judged for his weakness.

Clearing his throat, he stood and extended his hand to Sam, who grabbed it, and pulled him to his feet. Placing his hand on Sam's arm, he carefully pushed him to sit on his bed before walking over to the table for the box of tissues.

Handing the box to Sam, he sat next to his brother while Sam vigorously blew his nose and rubbed his now red eyes to remove the last of the moisture.

Once Sam was done, Dean stood and pulled back the covers on the bed. "Okay Sasquatch, time for bed."

Sam didn't protest as Dean placed his had on his chest and gently pushed him down to lie on the bed before pulling off his boots and carefully tucking the covers around him.

"Get some sleep Sammy." Dean droned as he sat on the other side of the bed and rubbed Sam's shoulder, careful to not aggravate his injury.

Sam turned onto his side and leaned his head against Dean's leg. He knew that Dean would probably tease him about it later, but right now he was too tired to care. He was just grateful that Dean understood and would be there for him, come hell or high water.

With that thought in mind, he fell into the peaceful oblivion of a sound sleep.

Dean watched as Sam fell asleep. He was surprised when Sam leaned against him, but was touched to know that Sam trusted him again enough to do so. This small gesture spoke louder that anything either of them could have said. It meant that despite what they had gone through, they were still brothers and would be there for each other no matter what happened.

Getting up to go to his own bed, he was surprised when Sam whimpered and rolled his head, searching for the comforting warmth of his brother's body.

Dean looked at Sam's face and wondered at how young he still looked in his sleep. Currently there was a small frown creasing his forehead when he failed to find his sibling.

Dean sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He _really_ hated chick flick moments, but right now the fact that his brother needed him was more important that his damn pride.

Finally waving the white flag, he grabbed the blanket off his bed and carefully sat down on Sam's. He was glad that he had tucked Sam in on the far side of the bed. This meant that he got the side closest to the door, effectively still placing him between Sam and the door in case anything tried coming into the room during the night.

Easing himself slowly down, so as not to disturb Sam, he punched his pillows into shape and pulled the blanket over him.

He had just closed his eyes when he felt the weight of Sam's head leaning against his shoulder as his brother snuggled up to him.

Yep, didn't matter how old they got. Sammy would always be his baby brother. His to watch out for and protect from harm.

Cracking an eye open, he couldn't help smiling at the look of childish innocence on this brother face.

Reaching over, he carefully brushed some stray strands of hair from Sam's face before whispering, "Night Sammy. Love you."

With that, Dean fell asleep.

* * *

_Wha'da ya think. Come on, you gotta comment. _


	3. Chapter II:New Hunt

**Chapter II: New Hunt. **

The next morning found Dean up bright, if not so early. He waded through his breakfast of donuts and coffee while surfing the internet for any possible hunts. The one they just finished had been sent to them by Bobby, who had already researched it but been unable to come out here himself. Dean was grateful to the old guy, as it had given Sam something to distract him from having too much time to think about what had happened with Max.

Somehow Dean got the feeling that, if given the time, Sam would probably have turned into a mental wreck by now. He shuddered at the thought of what that would entail. Sam having an emotional breakdown was not something he wanted to cope with again.

Glancing up from the laptop, he watched his brother sleeping curled up on his side facing Dean. He smiled as a small glob of drool made its way past his brother's slightly parted lips to trickle down the side of his face. Where was that blasted phone when he needed it? Sammy would be so pissed upon discovering he still had the disgusting habit.

He checked his watch and frowned. It was quarter-to-nine but Sam had not stirred once since Dean had woken, something that set off alarm bells in Dean's head.

Sam was usually the first one up in the morning. And unless there was something wrong with him, it tended to be way before what Dean would begin to consider a decent time to be even thinking about removing himself from the comfort of his bed.

Last night he had been so occupied with dealing with his brother's hay wired emotions he'd failed to note how much that smack Sammy had taken to the head might've been affecting him.

Now he worried that perhaps Sam may have bumped his head harder than he cared to admit. Dean just hoped Sam didn't have a concussion. That would be so not cool.

Suddenly, Sam began tossing and muttering incoherently in his sleep. And as Dean stood up and approached the bed, he noticed a slight sheen of sweat covering Sam's face and neck.

Dean quickly placed his hand on his brother's brow to feel for fever. He really hoped Sam was not getting sick; under no condition did he want to get stuck out here in the middle of nowhere

He was relieved to feel a normal temperature. But it was short lived as Sam's thrashing increased to the point that he was withering all over the bed like he was trying to escape from something holding him.

Dean placed a hand tentatively on Sam's shoulder. When nothing happened, he began vigorously shaking his brother in an attempt to wake him up.

"Sam. Sammy." He called. "Hey, come on dude, wake up."

Sam rolled over onto his back and cracked an eye open. "Deeeean. Waaaaasss wong?" he slurred, not fully awake.

"You were having a dream is what." Dean brushed back a lock of Sam's sweat soaked bangs and frowned at his brother. Sam may not have had a fever, but his clothes and bedding were soaked with sweat, causing them to stick to his body, and his eyes were beginning to show dark rings under them.

"Unnnnnng. Whaaaa time's it." Sam murmured rolling over and burying his face under the pillow.

"It's quarter-to-nine Sleeping Beauty." Dean cajoled, catching hold of the end of Sammy's blanket and pulling it off his brother.

"Mmmmf. Leeme lone." Sam wined as he groped for the blanket that Dean was holding bunched up under his arm.

"Ahhh, now you see, that's just not happening cause you need to get up so we can get out of this shithole and find a place with real service. Unless you're getting sick again."

Even though Dean said this in a teasing manner he couldn't help feeling a twinge of apprehension in his gut. Ever since high school Sam had never complained about getting up, not to this extent at least, unless there was something very wrong with him. Even when he was sick he would try to suck it up like Dean always did.

"Sammy, you feeling alright man." Dean studied his brother a little more closely. Sam's eyes were bloodshot and his face was so pale the veins under his skin were beginning to show.

Instead of responding to Dean's question, Sam propelled himself off of the mattress and tackled Dean.

"If I was sick would I be able to do this." Sam groused; finally back in the realm of consciousness.

The brothers rolled over a few times before Dean managed to gain the upper hand and wrestle his younger brother to the floor. Sitting astride Sam's chest while pinning his arms to his sides via his legs, Dean gleefully wiggled his fingers in Sam's face and smiled evilly.

"Seems you've forgotten the rule of what happens when you attack your awesome big brother first thing in the morning." Dean's grin got bigger as Sam wiggled furiously in a desperate attempt to escape the impending punishment he knew his brother was about to mete out.

"Ah, ah Sammy. You didn't think I would just let you get away with it, now did you?" Dean reproached in false shock when Sam changed tactics and tried his puppy dog eyes. This time it was not going to save him.

Sam didn't have time for another escape attempt as Dean began to rake his wiggling fingers over his defenseless brother's sides. Having just woken up, Sam was completely at the mercy of his brother.

Dean showed no leniency as he tickled and poked every spot he could think of where he knew Sammy was sensitive in. In no time, he had reduced his younger brother to a squirming, hysterically laughing heap on the floor.

"St…stop. Stop. Ghaaaa. Please. Enouhahahaf. You…wh…win." Sam just managed to get out in-between giggles and increasing boughts of laughter.

"I don't know Sammy. Seems you still haven't learned your lesson." Dean cackled without letting up for a second. He was having a heyday watching his brother acting like a six-year-old. "Penalty stops when I decide you have sufficiently repented of the evil deeds that thou attempted upon your unprepared yet amazing older sibling." Sam only managed another shriek of laughter as Dean doubled his efforts.

After five minutes Dean decided Sam had had enough and so, somewhat grudgingly, rolled off him.

Sam lay panting on the floor, his face red from the lack of air Dean's tickle torture had brought on, when he heard his brother taunting him.

"Wow Sammy. I know you're a bitch most of the time but I didn't know you squealed like a one as well."

Sam glowered at Dean who was sitting with his back against the end of the bed, a sweetly innocent grin plastered over his face. Disregarding the 'lesson' he had just suffered at the hand of his brother, Sam pounced on Dean. Using his body to pin Dean's legs, he began tickling Dean's belly. This would have been an effective means of payback had it not been for the fact that Dean was completely and utterly not ticklish.

Instead, Dean sat contently with his hands behind his head and watched his younger brother's pitiful attempt at retribution, grinning silently all the while except for a single. "Dude, you do know your position is just gay." This prompted Sam to try all the harder, adding to Dean's amusement.

After about a minute of watching Sam get more and more frustrated with his lack of results, Dean decided they couldn't waist anymore time. Waiting until Sam shifted in an attempt to try a different area to attack; Dean pulled his legs in and positioned his heels just above Sam's pelvis. With a small grunt of exertion, he sent Sammy sprawling backwards.

The site of Sammy lying spread-eagle on the carpet with a look of total surprise on his face did what all his younger brother's efforts had failed to accomplish. Dean clutched his sides as he doubled over, roaring with laughter.

'What's so funny?" Sam asked in a whiny voice. Unfortunately, this along with the pouty look that now slid onto his face only seemed to send Dean into fresh gales of laughter.

Alright, Sam had to admit, the site of him trying to tickle his brother, who was probably the most _unticklish_ person he knew, had to be rather amusing. He soon joined in on Dean's merriment until both boys were out of breath.

Wiping a few tears of mirth from his eyes, Dean pushed himself up to sit on the foot of the bed and shook his head. "Sammy, I swear if you ever try that again, I will strap you to a bed and not stop tickling you for a week.

Sam knew from past experiences that Dean was serious, but that didn't stop him from breaking into a smothered laugh or risking another poke. "Oh and I'm the one who's gay!"

Dean had to smile as he remembered he last time he had made good his promise. He had been allowed to keep Sam handcuffed to their motel room bed for four full hours of tickling, with intervals for the two of them to catch their breath, before John had forced Dean to release his brother.

Although Dean had done so only slightly grudgingly, it had left no doubt in Sam's mind that it was a promise Dean would not fail to follow up on. And this time there would be no John to rescue him.

Wiping a hand across his cheek to remove the remaining traces of the tears from laughing, Sam jerked his head back when his hand came in contact with some manner of slimy substance covering his cheek and jaw. Bringing his hand up to eye level so he could get a better look at the offending goop he heard Dean start cracking up again.

"Did you do this?" Sam asked annoyed.

Dean merely snickered some more. "Oh well," he chuckled. "Uh, I don't know how to tell you this Samantha. But, uh, it looks like you still drool in your sleep."

As he had predicted Sam jumped up with a horrified expression and ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Dean doubled over in silent sniggers as the sound of the shower running reached his ears. Sammy was such a girl sometimes, but he hadn't expected pretty boy to take a full out shower just to get rid of a little drool.

Smirking triumphantly at the prospect of using this as ammunition against Sam in the future, Dean returned to his donuts and waited for his sissy little brother to show.

Half-an-hour later Sam finally emerged from the bathroom accompanied by a cloud of steam. Dean looked up from the computer and felt his face splitting into another evil grin when he saw Sammy's still sour-puss expression.

"Did you remember to manicure your nails while you were in there? Maybe need more time to put your curlers in?" Dean knew he really shouldn't have done that but the kid was just so much fun when he got worked up over Dean's teasing.

Sam glowered at him and Dean was sure that if the little bitch hadn't been such a prissy wuss he would have spun up the towel and flicked him with it. Instead, Sam opted to say nothing and busied himself with getting dressed before Dean could come up with anymore jibs.

"Find anything?" Sam asked as he joined Dean at the table.

Dean opened the window he had minimized and turned the computer over to Sam. "Take a look.'

"Movie monster murders maid?" Sam asked, looking at the title of the article. Dean motioned for him to keep reading.

"Dika Petulengro, age 50, was killed last night by an unidentified attacker that witnesses claim was half man, half wolf.

Miss Petulengro, a maid at the Aqua Horizon Spa and Inn in Sedona, Arizona, had been retuning from delivering a load of laundry being sent too the cleaners when she was attacked just outside the main entrance to the front lobby.

The night clerk, Arthur Blare, reported seeing the unknown assailant before he attacked Miss Petulengro. "He was tall; seven foot at least, built like a pro-wrestler, and covered in hair and had ears like an animal. His face was stretched into a snout like a wolf's and he had huge teeth, like fangs."

"If you ever wondered what a werewolf looks like you should have seen this guy," said Henry Cross, the doorman. "His eyes were all yellow and hade a sort of red glow to them. His hands were curled up like claws with gigantic nails. Whoever it was I never want to see him again."

Authorities believe that ….

Sam didn't bother to read the rest of the article since he knew what it would say.

"Werewolf?" he glanced over at Dean before hurriedly returning his line of vision back to the computer screen so he wouldn't have to see the contents off his brother's mouth.

"Fits the description," Dean said swallowing. "Just one problem…"

"Full moon was ten days ago." Sam finished.

"Exactly." Dean said cheerfully and started helping himself to the contents of the second donut box.

"Mitts off you bottomless pit!" Sam grabbed the box before his brother could filch anymore of its goodies.

"Awww come on, that's not fair," Dean whined. "I was the one who went out and got them while you were still dreaming about Prince Charming."

"You're going to get fat Dean." Not strictly true given how much exercise they got on the job, but still it was funny imagining a fat older sibling. Sam smiled and began eating.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

"OK," Sam said when he had polished off the last donut, "I guess this means that we're heading to Sedona, right?"

"Mmhmm." Dean nodded. "Sooner we get away from this hellhole the better."

"Then let's go." Sam said and hurriedly gulped down the last of his coffee while throwing stuff into his bag. He was just as anxious as Dean to leave but for different reasons. The sooner they got out of here the sooner Dean would stop poking his nose into every twist of his little brother's psyche.

"Come on." Dean yelled from the car park. "Like some time this century would be nice ya know." Now Dean was outside the door, clearly he had every intention of getting as far away from here as fast as humanly possible.

Giving the room a glance over to make sure they hadn't left anything behind, Sam shouldered his bag and joined Dean in the car.

"Dude, do you just like have this perverse enjoyment for busting my eardrums or something?" Sam had to yell to be heard over Metallica's Devil's Dance that was playing at earsplitting decibels.

"Nope," Dean grinned, it was a wonder in itself that he could make himself heard over the music without yelling. "Just bidding the locals a fond 'adios'." With Dean belting out the lyrics in time with the song, they pulled out toward the highway and whatever awaited them at the end of it

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	4. Chapter III:Hunt or Vacation?

**CHAPTER III: Hunt or Vacation?**

"…**.**Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief. Ain't got a hope in hell, that's my belief." Sam jumped suddenly as Dean and Brian Johnson's vocals torpedoed the bliss he had been enjoying in snoozey land, followed immediately by a booming thud as his skull decided tangoing with the roof of the Impala was in order.

"Deeaaan!" Sam groused, rubbing his now reverberating cranium.

"Rise and shine cupcakes." Dean cheered in a singsong voice. "We got work and times a-wasting." He pulled to the shoulder of the road and killed the engine.

"Er, Dean. Where are we?" All that was currently visible was desert and the road.

"Half-an-hour from Sedona, so come on." Dean patted Sam's knee and opened his door. Sam mirrored his action and followed too the back of the car where Dean had opened the trunk and was now rifling through his bag.

"Get your clothes out." Sam looked at his brother, wondering what he could be up to now. "I mean it Sam-o clothes out." Dean restated, upending his own bag and began sorting through the various pieces of clothing.

"What for?" Sam asked as he unzipped his bag.

"Because," Dean said as he held up a shirt for inspection "the Aqua Horizon Spa and Inn is a bloody four star private resort and we'll stick out faster then a summer storm in the desert if we go in looking modern Clint Eastwood retro." Dean held up a worn T-shirt sporting the faint outlines of old bloodstains to emphasize the point. "Nope," he tossed the shirt to a pile that was apparently the 'unsuitable' collection, "I think I prefer first class service to battle worn cowboy right now."

Sam looked at his brother oddly. "Uuuuuuuuuuh Dean, what are you talking about?" Sam asked slowly.

"Come on Sammy." Dean clapped his brother lightly on the shoulder and stuffed what Sam guessed passed as an 'acceptable' pair of jeans back into his duffle. "It's a spa resort. Do you have any idea what that means? Room service, swimming pools, private bar; oh, not to mention," here Dean cast a glance over his shoulder as if to ensure no one was in hearing distance, despite the fact that there wasn't so much as a fly to be seen in any direction, and whispered conspiratorially to his brother, "masseuse chicks." Dean leaned back and nodded at Sam with eyebrows raised suggestively.

Sam's jaw almost cracked on the side of the trunk. "Dean, your not saying what I think you are?"

"You bet I am. Three days of blissful pampering with nary a care in the world."

Now Sam was starting to get scared. Dean had never been one for, well, pampering. And since when had he started using words like 'nary'. "Dean, are you alright?"

"Fantastic-o," Dean chippered, "why do you ask?"

"Well…" Sam hesitated, "how do you plan on paying for this? I mean the rooms are gonna cost at least, what, four-five hundred bucks a night."

"Six hundred actually." Dean corrected, "I ordered a double room with a view of the canyon."

"Uuuuuuuuh, huh?" was all Sam could manage. Six hundred bucks a night, since when did they have that kind of cash?

"Where do you think I was all those nights on the way down here?" Dean's triumphant look was only bolstered by his brother's nonplussed one.

Sam personally had no idea. In every town or city they had stopped over in on the way to their last job Dean would ask if Sam wanted to accompany him out for the night, then shrug when Sam refused on the grounds of wanting to do more research and leave till the wee hours of the morning. Sam assumed he had been out working the Winchester charm and didn't complain since it meant he got to _drive_ in the morning when his older sibling was too tuckered out.

Now it appeared his initial opinion may not be as accurate as he thought.

Dean huffed. "Cleaning out the locals, what else."

Sam stared at Dean shocked. "Wha…what? Why?" Normally he and Dean had no problem earning enough for a week or more with one night's pool hustling or card winnings. What had his brother been doing that he would need to spend almost a week's worth of evenings plundering the bar patron's bill folds.

"Hey, never know when the occasional emergency like this will come along. Besides I was planning to suggest a break after that last job, I think we deserve it." Dean chippered. He managed to ignore the uncomfortable way his stomach slithered at the little white lie. Now was not the time for long soul searching reminisces, they had a job to do and he by golly wasn't gonna take his own sweet time at it. Not when there were chicks and evil nasties awaiting the honor of making the acquaintance of the one and only bad boy demon hunter Dean Winchester.

Sam decided not to probe any further, Dean had probably just been giving him space to sort things out in his own way. He felt twangs of guilt for having caused his brother any undue worry and resolved not to push further but to instead indulge his rather exorbitant plan. So he turned to sorting out his own bag while listening as Dean laid out the details of his plan for their upcoming vacation/hunt.

What? The guy deserved a holiday or two after having put up with his younger siblings self-pity brooding all last month.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Sam winced at the site that greeted them at the entrance of the main hotel building. The driveway had once been bordered by delicately tended flowerbeds and immaculate lawns that ran the length of the building. A small fountain had sat in the middle of the island at the end, around which the lane curled to meet the entrance of the main lobby.

Now it looked like a stampede of wild beasts had used it for a training ground. Yellow police tape only adding to the dismal scene.

"Uh, Dean?" Sam asked as a uniformed officer left the shade of a large tree where he had been trying to find some relief from the sun and started for the car. "I know it's a bit late to be asking, but are they even still taking clients? I mean look at the place."

"Course." Dean switched off the stereo and rolled down his window as the frowning man approached the car.

"Can I help you?" Dean rolled his eyes as if the answer should be obvious.

"Yes where do we park the car and how do we get in past all that." He waved a hand in the direction where several detectives where carefully examining the area.

"I'm sorry sir." The guy shook his head. "You are not allowed to enter the crime scene."

"Then inform me how _you_ intend I get to my room!" Somewhere along the line Dean had managed to perfect the air of one accustomed to not having their orders questioned that came with the territory where _lots_ of money was involved.

"Um, sir?" The officer was starting to look slightly bewildered. "Are you planning on staying here?"

"Yes _I am_ planning on _staying_." Dean all but growled as if the man was upstairs challenged. "Now how the hell do I get in!"

The man frowned but pointed back down the drive. "There is a side entrance just through there," he waved to where a smaller lane ran from the main road between tall hedges to disappear from sight

Dean nodded tersely and pulled slowly away. "Are you planning on staying here?" he shook his head when they were out of earshot. "And we're paying them to guard and protect the good citizens."

"Not really a big surprise Dean." Sam admonished. "He's just doing his job."

"Yeah yeah." Dean 'harrumphed' and angled the Impala into the lane. The narrow drive, just barely wide enough for two cars, twisted around looping corners hidden by the tall bushes and he needed to listen incase someone was coming from the opposite direction. Thankfully they managed to navigate the turns with no interruption- Dean mumbling periodically about what he would sue them if anything happened to his baby- before reaching their destination.

As they pulled up to the entrance a uniformed bellhop came forward to receive them. Dean remained adamantly in the driver seat while Sam got out.

"Would you like me to park your car sir?" The hotel employee asked. Dean gave the guy a once over and grimaced. The kid couldn't be older than nineteen and looked fresh out of high school. Hell would have to freeze over several times before he was going to let anyone, much less some baby faced, hormonal geek who's driving experience was most likely limited to driver's ed and the hotel visitor's cars, touch his precious baby.

"_No!_ Thank you! I'd like to do it myself." Dean felt that smudge of gleeful pride he always got when people started making eyes at his girl. She never failed to incite jealous admiration in pretty much everyone who saw her and this guy looked like he had been practically drooling to get behind the wheel since he laid eyes on her. From his expression now you would have thought his parents just confiscated his porn stash.

Dean managed to hide a creeped out shudder and got directions to the parking lot while Sam pulled their bags from the trunk. Unlike his brother however, he accepted the boy's offer to cart the bags on a trolley. He had a lot of books and saw no reason not to take advantage of the service. Dean was paying.

Trailing a few feet behind, he followed as the guy rolled the cart down a hall done in tasteful mahogany and earthy tones. He couldn't help wondering what it cost to run a place like this. One of those decorative vases or paintings was worth enough to buy ammo for several _months_.

Their destination was the main lobby that he had seen through the crime seen earlier. Here more tape marked off several feet where remnants of the once beautifully etched glass French doors now lay scattered like a thousand worthless diamonds across the front of the room.

Whereas most people would have averted their eyes and hurried on, Sam studied the area with professional interest. Blood splattered the floor like some gruesome child's finger painting, standing out sharply against a stone floor artfully engraved.

His note taking was cut short when they reached the desk. Here too the clerk was surprised anyone would want to stay. "Everyone else left and almost all reservations have been canceled," was the woman's apologetic explanation for her skepticism.

Sam wasn't sure if this was good or bad since it meant they wouldn't have to deal with the upper class that would normally be here. But it also meant the staff would be freer to keep an eye on their only customers. Still he was all charm and breezed through their excuse for paying in cash. "Our parent's have a habit of tracing us with our cards when we're on vacation."

Sam had to choke down the riot forming in his gut. If his mom were alive and dad was still with them he would gladly have put up with any kind of nagging if it meant his family was happy and whole

The clerk glanced at him understandingly from where she was typing in the necessary information but dismissed the slightly hitched breathing as a natural reaction to the new Halloween motifs gracing the foyer. Sam noticed and snagged a cold fist on his emotional panel. Slips were to be expected but he would not let his feelings jeopardize their game.

Taking the plastic key cards the lady set before him when she was done, Sam hurried to the room. All the finery and polite mannerism was very much starting to remind him of Stanford. The posh décor and shallowness of the people that he knew gravitated to it never failed to leave a bad taste in this mouth. Still he managed a polite exterior as he tipped the bellhop and waited till the boy was gone before texting the room number to

Dean.

"Whoa! Nice digs they got here." Dean whistled as he commandeered the contents of the room's complimentary gift baskets. The chocolates alone cost more than a box of shotgun shells.

"Hey those aren't all for you, you pig." Sam snatched at his basket before Dean could get a second hand in.

"Oh shove off Mr. Heath Freak," Dean snickered and swiped another goodie. "You can enjoy the spoils _after _we find out what's a-takin' the god folk of this place in such a fright."

Sam's eyes closed a hair's width as he cautiously reached into the bag that held the weapons and other hunting materials at the foot of the bed. Carefully watching the man on the other side of the room, he retrieved a bottle and stood. Moving like a panther timing its pounce he made sure the other was happily occupied filching the last contents of the basket, then…

"What the fuck was that Sam!" Dean roared as he turned on his brother who stood clutching the now empty canteen.

"Uh... um… I… uh." Sam stammered, hanging onto the canteen like a life support.

"You were acting weird." He squeaked and backed away as Dean's look rose to the 'pissed because of some idiot's stupidity' plane.

"And how, pray tell, was I being 'weird'?" Dean inquired at dangerously cool levels. Sam 'ulped', the last time Dean had that look was after finding out his 'healing' was the product of a bound reaper.

"Well," he smiled nervously, "all the old English talk for one."

"What?" Dean snorted. "It's my 'Men in Tights' impersonation."

Sam suppressed a shudder. "Do I even want to know when you watched that?"

Dean 'happy puppy' grinned. "Don't tell me you've never checked out Amy Yasbeck's ass in that iron underwear." Wriggling his eyebrows he began humming the theme song for said movie.

Sam decided it best to ignore Dean and instead headed to check out the crime scene. Dean barely waved in acknowledgement as he started stripping. Sam left in a hurry without asking, he probably didn't want to know.

Dean with unlimited excuses for A: flirting, B: driving his little brother to a heart attack from pure insanity, and no dad to put the stopper on him. Sam was certainly glad it was a working vacation. Dean plus nothing to do equals bad things.

If he survived this break/job he was _never_ letting Dean pick their vacations spots again!

* * *

**Let the insanity begin. Good luck Sammy. **

**Should anyone else care to vote themselves as the cheering/medic squad the little button down there is just waiting for you to volunteer. **


End file.
